Explore "Passing" by Nella Larsen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On Tuesday morning a dome of grey sky rose over the parched city, but the stifling air was not relieved by the silvery mist that seemed to hold a promise of rain, which did not fall.
To Irene Redfield this soft foreboding fog was another reason for doing nothing about seeing Clare Kendry that afternoon.